One Day More
by Woodwinked
Summary: What we call the beginning is often the end. And to make an end is to make a beginning. The end is where we start from. This is a story of an end, and many, many beginnings, and how redemption can be found in the most unlikely of places. DM/HG
1. Prologue

_Just a quick authors note. This story starts three years after the end of the war. At least, that's when the prologue takes place. The next chapter, and the rest of the story, will start about five years after that. So eight years total after the end of the war. Don't get confused._

_I've messed with the cannon deaths and relationships from the last book, because they bothered me. Snape is still alive, I'll explain how in the Prologue. Lupin also survived, but Tonks is also dead. Everyone else is dead. Just couldn't let J.K. kill off my favorite characters. Plus, I needed them for plot purposes. _

_This prologue is all about Severus. It will be kind of boring until near the end, I'm just warning you. I promise things will get interesting… soon. Stick it out, please?_

_One more note- you will see some echoes of Les Miserables in this story. For all intents and purposes, Severus is my Jean Valjean, and Hermione is my Fantine, (I'm sure you will see right away who is Javert). For those of you who know the story do not worry, I don't plan on killing Herms off. (Or do I?) You will notice that each chapter will have some song lyrics, and a quote. Usually the lyrics are from the song I listened to while writing the chapter. I recommend you listen to them. (the version of Les Miserables I listen to is the one you can find on YouTube, the Tenth Anniversary version. The one with Phillip Quast, because he is my hero.)_

_I think that's it. So sit back, keep your hands and feet inside the vehicle at all time, and enjoy the show!_

_Final word count – 5, 013 words. About 8 ½ pages on Word. _

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Look down, look down; don't look 'em in the eye. Look down, look down; you're here until you die. The sun is strong; it's hot as hell below. Look down, look down; there's twenty years to go. I've done no wrong; Sweet Jesus, hear my prayer. Look down, look down; sweet Jesus doesn't care. – _**Les Miserables, **_**Look Down**

I will show you fear in a handful of dust- _**T.S. Eliot**_

**One Day More**

By Me

_Chapter One_- Prologue (or 24601 or Charlotte)

Prison. The world is thrown around like the word _potatoes_ by those who had no idea what the thing is actually like. There are few who actually know what the word prison entails. The sheer loss of hope that comes with being eternally behind bars –in the dark, and cold, and damp. Knowing day after day that this is where you will be forever, this is where you will die. Not at home, in your bed and surrounded by your loved ones the way you had always imagined. No, that way is for the free. The men who avoided being locked away in the hopeless void that is prison. You are forced to live with the knowledge that you are going to die there, and when you do… no one will care.

To Severus Snape, the word prison meant many things. Of course he knew the literal definition of the word –_a secure place where somebody is confined as punishment for a crime or while waiting to stand trial_- but he had been in different forms of prison all his life.

His home had been a prison. Living under the oppressive foot of his bastard of a father. Until he turned eleven he feared for his life every single day. Every night he would lay awake in his bed, listening to his father's drunken rampages and hoping that he would be granted one more night before his father finally snapped. That had been a prison.

When he left his home for Hogwarts he had hoped that he would find there a reprieve.

He had hoped wrong.

Because of his appearance and his fascination with the dark arts and potions, Severus Snape was ridiculed from the moment he stepped foot in Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He couldn't turn a corner without stinging hexes being thrown at his back, without sniggers and taunts, without someone pasting a 'kick me' sign to his shoulders. This place that was supposed to be a sanctuary of learning had been turned into a prison. James Potter and his damned friends had made sure of that.

Severus joined the Death Eaters shortly after graduating. He had been sure that with them lay the way to freedom. He would join their ranks and when the new world came, nothing and no one would be able to repress him again. He would be free to be himself like he had never been before. This, surely, was the way to salvation.

But, yet again, Severus Snape had hoped wrong.

The Dark Lord was the most oppressive jailor he had ever known. He was watched for treachery everywhere he turned, so paranoid was he that his faithful subjects would betray him. Severus disliked having a _master_ more than anything else. He had been sure –_positive-_ that the Dark Lord would conquer the muggles, and that he would be able to live his life the way he was always meant to. He couldn't have been more wrong. Not only did the Dark Lord not trust anyone, but he cared very little for his followers. The moment he killed Lily Potter, Severus knew that he had to find a way out.

That way out came in the form of Albus Dumbledore. Or so he thought.

He did what Albus told him. Whatever the old man wanted him to do, he did. Whatever was needed to bring about the demise of the Dark Lord, Severus Snape did it. But by swearing himself to Albus, he further imprisoned himself. He could never be free with his life pledged to two men who were tugging him in two different directions. One would say that Severus brought it all upon himself, and that would be true. But there was no way he could have known the consequences of his actions until it was too late. The things Albus asked him to do were almost worse than the requests of the Dark Lord. He was forced to be a spy- to close his mind and endure torture and pain that no one could ever imagine- all for the sake of one old man.

Prison had become the norm for Severus. He was used to being enslaved, being used for his talents and receiving nothing in return. It was almost comforting to him –at least he knew that while he was being used he was, in fact, use_ful_. He had not become the waste of a man that his father had been. Not yet, at least.

The unbreakable vow he swore to Narcissa Malfoy only served to deepen his enslavement. He now not only lived to do the Dark Lord and Albus' bidding, but he had to live to protect that damn little snot Draco, as well. His live was forfeit to a seventeen year old boy who didn't know what he was doing, or what was good for him. For all Severus knew, he was doomed.

There was only one solution he could see. But that solution was even more frightening than any prison Severus had ever known. He would have to kill Albus Dumbledore. He knew that Draco could never do it. The boy was a lot of things, but not a killer. Never a killer. And Severus couldn't condemn him to the damnation of the soul that comes with taking a life. As the boy's godfather, he could not allow it.

So Severus killed Albus Dumbledore. He looked into those damnable blue eyes as they lost their trademark glitter. He watched as the frail body was flung over the edge of the tower and down… down… down into the darkness.

The image never ceased to haunt him.

Severus had expected to feel a cathartic release of tension –a new sense of freedom- he couldn't have prepared himself for the _guilt._ Crushing, tumultuous guilt without limit, end, or logic. Guilt that pushed and pulled from every side and angle. Guilt that woke him up in the night, that filled his dreams with blue eyes and frail bodies falling into darkness.

This was senseless guilt. The old man had asked for it, _begged for it._ Why, then, was he feeling guilty? He had done Albus a favor. Lord only knows what would have happened if he hadn't done it. The horrors that the old man would have faced if he had been left –weak and helpless- to the death eaters. Or, even worse, if Draco had been forced to kill him. It is a rare soul indeed that can recover from that sort of damage. Severus' soul was already damned ten times over. There was no salvation for him, even before he killed Albus. So why was he so damn guilty?

Guilt is the worst, most consuming prison of all. Severus Snape knew that better than anyone. He lived each and every day of that last year of the war filled with the knowledge that he had killed the only man who had ever shown him any bit of kindness. Albus had used him, used him for what he could do for him. But he had also saved him. He had saved him from a life of servitude to a master that would dispose of Severus the moment he was no longer useful. While in his head he knew that he had done what Albus wanted, done him a kindness –saved him, really- his heart would not let him forget the look in those blue eyes as life left them.

Do for a year Severus was left in a tug of war between his guilt and his continued duty to protect Draco Malfoy. The escalating war made his life more and more difficult. Taking Albus' place as headmaster of Hogwarts nearly killed him. He hated that place, the children in it, and everything that being in that office made him remember. Stepping foot into the headmaster's office was like stepping into a Pensive. Every day he endured memories of being in school and sitting in that office after a particularly bad prank by Potter and his gang. Memories of confessing his sins to Albus, of purging his soul and begging for forgiveness.

It was enough to drive him mad.

He was almost thankful when Potter infiltrated the school. Whichever way the war was to end, at least it would soon be over with.

He should have died that night, when Nagini attacked him. He should have been left to bleed to death, wallowing in his own misery and self pity. But, alas, fate was not that kind. He lay there for what seemed to be hours on end, his breath slowing, his heart beating faster and faster to attempt to get blood to his dying extremities. It was a most unpleasant way to die, he had to admit. But it was less unpleasant than living.

He had thought his eyes were closing for the last time when –would you believe it?- the door to the room in the Shrieking Shack burst open and in came what seemed to be a cavalry of people. That frizzy haired woman, Granger, was leading them. Then came Lupin, Shacklebolt, and an entire army of people that Severus recognized. As soon as they cast the first levitating spell on him he knew –he just _knew-_ they would not let him die.

He couldn't help but feel embarrassed, being magically carried across the grounds covered in blood and bleeding like it was his job. But there was nothing for it. He was too weak to move. The snake venom had worked on his nerves and would have made it impossible for him to move, even if the loss of blood hadn't made him too weak.

Those damnable people brought him to the Hospital Wing in the school where he was nursed back to health. He slept for nearly a week before he woke up again. There was quite a bit going on around the school then. Repairs were being made, bodies were still being discovered.

Prison. Severus Snape had known many forms over the years. In some way or another, he was always in a prison. Always a slave, never free. Never able to live for himself, always denied the simple freedoms and pleasures that most people enjoy. He should not have been surprised like he was when the very moment he was well enough to sit up in bed, representatives from the Ministry of Magic appeared in his room and told him that he was under arrest for the murder of Albus Dumbledore.

He shouldn't have been shocked, really. This was always his luck. Had he thought it had changed?

Prison. That was where Severus Snape sat. Trapped within the prison of his mind, and stuck behind the bars of a literal prison. It seemed to be only fitting that he finally found himself in a real, tangible jail. He had, after all, been jailed all of his life. What was this but yet another form of imprisonment, surely no worse than the other versions he had faced. In fact, this one may have been better. At least here he could see what held him –iron bars, stone walls, solid floors. Walls and floors and bars that he could throw himself against in rage, attempt to escape from. So much better than the prison of fear and foolish promises he had lived in for most of his life.

Severus Snape had always been a prisoner. So long that he didn't know what freedom felt like. He had been sentenced to a life in this real prison. He would always be a prisoner.

He was roused from his thoughts suddenly and sharply, as if a bucket of water had been thrown over him. "Prisoner 24601!" His head rose automatically at the sound of the familiar number –his number. He was not Severus Snape here. He was 24601. "To the front of your cell." This was confusing. Severus rose to his feet and crossed the pace and a half or so to the door of his cell. He knew it wasn't time for a meal, or for the 'walk around the yard' they got every other day. He didn't know what this could be about…

When he reached the door, it swung open outwards. Standing in the doorway was a man, about his height, whom he had never seen before. Though he was a complete stranger, Severus disliked this man immediately. His face strong, with a high pointed chin and a ruddy complexion. His hair was as long as his own, but tied back neatly away from his face. His eyes were clear, icy blue –a stark contrast to Severus' own black ones. They stared at each other for a nanosecond before the strange man cleared his throat.

"You are to come with me." As much as he wanted to refuse, Severus knew that he couldn't. The man gave a sharp turn and walked away down the hall, and Severus followed. The chains that bound his feet dragged dully on the floor, and Severus was used to the weight they gave his feet as he walked.

He followed the man in silence. Whatever this was about, he hoped that the man would be quick. He didn't like being disturbed –he had disliked it, even before the war. There was a time when people who disturbed the privacy of Severus Snape would have to face serious consequences. But no longer.

He was lead into a room that he had never been in before. There were two armed guards in the room, flanking a door directly opposite the one that they entered through. A table sat in the middle of the room, a single light hanging from the ceiling in the middle of the surface of the table. Severus almost chuckled. He felt like he was in the middle of a muggle cop movie, and he was about to be interrogated by the bad cop. Though, if that was true, he was sure that he shouldn't be laughing. "Sit down."

Severus obediently sat in the chair on the side of the table nearest to the door that he had just come through. The strange man sat across from him and signaled to one of the guards. The guard stepped forward and handed the man a small stack of papers that he had been holding. The man glanced at the top paper before looking back at Severus.

"Prisoner 24601, it seems you have been granted your parole." _Parole._ The word went through Severus like a curse. He knew the meaning of the word, of course. But… he had been sentenced to life. The only way he could have been granted parole would be if… "Someone has been working very hard on your behalf, 24601. It seems they have finally gotten through to the Ministry. They have decided to end your sentence." His thoughts stopped all together.

End his sentence. That meant…

"I'm free?" The words trembled on his lips. Words that he hadn't been able to say in the best of times, they sounded foreign to him.

"No." The man's sharp voice cut through his thoughts. "It means you get your ticket of leave. If you break your parole, I will personally see to it that you will never leave Azkaban prison again, 24601."

"My name is Severus Snape." He rose to his feet. His legs trembled, but held. He would be rid of this place forever. Of course they would try to put restrictions on him. Parole. Not free, but nearly so. Close enough.

"And I am Dmitri Frollo. Do not forget my name, 24601. If you try to run, I will hunt you down. There is nowhere you can hide from me. Nowhere." His eyes hardened even further, and the two men stared at each other for another moment. Frollo and Snape.

Without taking his eyes off of Snape, Frollo signaled to the guards again. They both raised their wands and Severus felt the shackles on his feet fall to the ground. He took a step back and knocked his chair to the ground as he moved, not really caring. He had almost forgotten what it felt like to walk without the iron weight of shackles on his feet, holding him down.

The guard nearest to the door pointed his wand at the door, next, and he heard the bolts turning. The door gave a soft groan as it swung forward, opening to the outside world. Severus could scarcely believe it.

Hadn't he, only moments ago, resigned himself to spending the rest of his life here?

Hadn't he just been thinking of the rest of his life behind bars?

Hadn't he thought he would never escape?

And yet here it was –the open door he had seen in his dreams for the last three years. Three years. He had spent three whole years of his life in this damned place. And he was finally free.

Slowly, tentatively, Severus took a step forward. And then another. His steps were as unsure and unsteady as a toddler's, halting and wobbling. In a moments time, he was in the doorway. He could feel the breeze and the warmth of the sun on his skin. He could smell the fresh air.

"Do not forget, 24601. Do not forget what I have said."

Severus couldn't bring himself to look back at Frollo. His eyes were fixed ahead like a man possessed, fixed on the freedom he saw in the blue sky before him and the birds circling above.

One more step. Severus Snape stood in the sunlight. He was finally free.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Six months later in London, England._

"Here's your pay for the day. Get the hell out of here before I change my mind." A large bellied man threw a sack of coins at Severus Snape. Severus caught it deftly and weighed it in his hand, then heaved a heavy sigh. He didn't have to look inside to know how little money he had just been given.

For the past six months, he had been trying to find work. There was no way he could return to Hogwarts to teach. No parents would want the murderer of Albus Dumbledore teaching their children. Neither would any honest employer let a murderer work for them. Severus had been reduced to whatever physical labor he could find. On this particular day he had been given work at a factory, ensuring that the machines were working smoothly. He wasn't allowed a wand, and seemed to be permanently filthy, no matter how often he washed.

Yes, it was safe to say that the last six months had not been kind to Severus Snape.

"Is this all? Sir, these few sickles wouldn't even buy my sweat. This is half the pay the other men get." Severus couldn't help it, he was angry. Hunger and hate did that to even the most even tempered of people. And Severus had never been even tempered, even in his younger years.

"I've seen your ticket, boy. You're a criminal. I've given you more than you deserve. Why should I pay you the same as my honest men? Now get out, before you make me reconsider my generosity."

Severus mumbled a 'generosity my ass' before sweeping out of the room, and then out of the factory.

It was astonishing, really, how quickly he had come to this. But it wasn't as if he had expected to be welcomed with open arms. In fact, he knew he was lucky to even be alive. Now that Voldimort was dead Severus Snape was the most hated man in the Wizarding world. Even the word of the Chosen One wasn't enough to clear his name.

And so the once proud man had been reduced to little more than a beggar. His very nature prevented him from taking anyone's charity, from asking for help in any form. If he couldn't work for his food, then he would not eat. That was the way he was.

Severus walked the streets of London and avoided the stares of the people he passed. He didn't blame them for staring. His robes were tattered and dirty, his hair long and more grey than black. His beard had grown out, not to the point where it got in the way, but there was enough to make him look scruffy. He was, truly, a shadow of the man he used to be.

He drew his robes closer around him and quickened the pace of his walk. He had always hated people staring at him. Attention always made him nervous –he _hated_ being nervous. Why couldn't they mind their own business? Who cared what he looked like? Surely he was more threatening when he was healthy, with dark hair and a clean severe face. He was now an old man at the age of forty five. Hardly threatening, and hardly worth staring at.

But again he was lying to himself. He would always be worth staring at. As long as he was the man who killed Albus Dumbledore, people would stare.

Muggles didn't stare. Muggles went on their way and hardly gave him a second glance. But wizards, those who lived in the magical world –they stopped in their tracks. They whispered to their shopping companions, they grabbed their children's hands and pulled them to the other side of the road. Severus had to stop himself from shouting at them.

He wasn't entirely sure where he was going. He had no home. When he was release from Azkaban he sold his home in Spinner's End. What little money he got from that was gone now. All spent on food and Inn fees. So he had nowhere to go. The little money he had earned that day might buy enough food for a semi-decent supper, but it would never be enough for an in for the night.

He walked for a while, without purpose, without a set course in mind. Without anywhere to go.

"Please, sir." Severus started at the sound of a little voice that seemed to be addressing him. "Please." He looked down to see a small girl standing at his feet. Her hair was blonde and curly, her face pure and clean, her mouth perfectly pink and round, and her eyes the golden-hazel color of whiskey. There was something familiar in those eyes. The girl could not be older than three, four if she looked young for her age. She was looking up at him with blind trust that he had not seen on a face in years. "Sir, I've lost my mama. I can't find her anywhere. Do you know where she is?"

For a moment, Severus considered kicking her aside and moving on his way. But there was something in his eyes that held him. Something that he could not place. It prevented him from reacting cruelly to this girl. He knelt down on one knee to look the girl in the face. She had a pretty, round, honest face. The face of a naïve child. He almost smiled.

"Very well. Where did you last see her?"

"I… I don't 'member." Severus had to bite back a glower. How like a child.

"Alright. What does your mother look like?" He rose to his feet, taking the child with him and hoisting her onto his hip so she could see through the crowd. She weighed next to nothing at all –it was like he held a pixie in his arms.

"Oh, very pretty, mister. She got real curly hair like mine… but hers is brown. And she not very tall. Not tall like you and…" the girl's lips pursed and her white eyebrows furrowed as she thought. "Peoples says we has the same eyes. I's don't know what that means… how can we be different peoples and has the same eyes?"

Before Severus could answer her question, he heard a voice calling through the crowd. "Charlotte? Charlotte, where are you?" the girl in his arms wiggled in delight, and called back.

"Mama!" A woman –_hardly a woman_, Severus thought, _more like a girl_- came into view. Her hair was long, nearly to her waist, cascading all over the place in brown curls. Her face was small and round, just like the little girl's.

He lowered the little girl to her feet and allowed her to run into her mother's arms. Now that he saw the woman, he knew why the little girl's eyes had been so familiar. She hadn't changed much -the years had been kinder to her than they had been to him. When she had finished scolding her daughter, the woman approached him.

_Look down, look down; don't look 'em in the eye._

"Thank you, kind sir. I don't know what I'm going to do with her. She's always wandering off." He wanted to tell her that she should watch her better then, but he bit back his words. He seemed to be doing quite a lot of that, lately. "How can I ever repay you for being so kind to her?"

"Don't bother. Please…"

"No, I insist. You must come to dinner." Dinner. That would mean food. That is, if the offer still stood in a few moment when she realized who she was speaking to. He refused to raise his head. He refused to meet her eyes. Was this what he had been reduced to? A spineless idiot of a man who would hide from a woman half his age? He knew the answer to that question before he even asked it –a resounding _yes._ He had fallen that far. This girl who used to be so afraid of him. He didn't even want to see the look of pity that was almost certainly on her face now. It would make him ill.

_Look down, look down; they've all forgotten you._

"No. I… no. Good day." He tried to push past them, his eyes still downcast. He was stopped by a tugging on the hem of his robes. Looking down over his shoulder, he saw the little girl. She beckoned to him, and he knelt obligingly.

Once they were on the same level again, she reached out and grabbed his face between her hands and planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek. "Thank you, mister. You very nice, even if you is a little prickly." Severus almost laughed at the absurdity of the statement. _A bit prickly_. She had been referring, of course, to his facial hair. If only she knew that he was 'prickly' on the inside, too.

"Come along, Charlotte. Thank you again, sir. I'm in your debt." The woman and her child turned and walked away, and Severus let out a bitter laugh as he rose to his feet. She was in his debt? In the debt of whom? A beggar? A murderer? The idea was absurd.

He pressed his hand to where his cheek could still feel the little girl's kiss. The love of children knew no bounds. How long had it been since he had been reminded of that fact? He let out a sigh and stared after them. Hermione Granger and her child disappeared into the crowd, and perhaps out of his life forever.

_Look down, look down; you're standing in you're standing in your grave._

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_Well, that's about it for this time. What do you think? I would tell you to review, but there's really no pressure. Also- this is not a Hermione/Snape fic. Nor will it ever be Charlotte/Snape. So get those ideas out of your head right now. _

_But seriously, I would appreciate feedback. I will do my best to answer any questions in the next chapter. If you all think it's good enough to __**have**__ a next chapter. Just let me know._


	2. The Fragrance of Violets

_So, this is the second chapter. I would first and foremost like to thank the first two reviewers. I never expected to get even one review within the first twelve hours of posing this… and I got __**two**__! Imagine my shock and awe. So thank you. I can truly say you made my day._

_I've changed my mind a bit on the time thing. There will be at least one more chapter in the same time period as the first one. This one is actually just the same day as the prologue. Don't get confused. I'll let you know when the time changes majorly._

_The song for this chapter is __**Valjean Forgiven**__ (actually, the whole bit with the Bishop and his arrest), as you can probably already see. I also listened to quite a bit of __**Speed of Sound**__ by Chris Bell. I know, it's strange. But whatever. I've got strange music tastes. But if you're anything like me, you like to listen to music when you're reading (or writing) so if you want to hear what I was hearing writing this… that's it. (Oh! __**Lay 'Em Down**__ by Needtobreathe was a bit inspirational, too. Excellent band, they are.)_

_I feel this chapter needs a few explanations. First- Hermione is not stupid. She is simply a bit naïve, very trusting, and believes that everyone deserves a chance. Remember that when you're reading._

_Second- Snape, while he is somewhat of a beggar, hates being treated as a charity case. He gets extremely angry when he is treated as one, and despises 'Gryffindor nobility'. That may help to explain some of his actions later in the chapter. He will also be a bit more in character here. No, he hasn't been turned into a softie. Couldn't have that, could we? _

_Final word count – 6,045 words and 10 ¼ pages on Word._

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So sir, you may release him, for this man has spoken true. I commend you for your duty and god's blessings go with you. But remember this, my brother; see in this some higher plan. You must use this precious silver, to become an honest man. By the witness of the martyrs, by the Passion and the Blood -God has raised you out of darkness. I have bought your soul for God! –_**Les Miserables, **_**Valjean Forgiven**

Forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds on the heel that has crushed it. -_**Mark Twain**_

**One Day More**

By Woodwinked

_Chapter Two-_ The Fragrance of Violets

It was growing dark. The sun was setting beyond the rooftops of the tall buildings of London. The people on the street were scattering. It was nearly supper or bed time for the nameless rabble. They were clearing off into apartments, townhouses, restaurants, and bus stations. Everyone was going places. It seemed that everyone had a place to go, somewhere to be, people to be with.

Severus had nowhere to go. He had nowhere that he belonged, no one that he belonged with.

He was rather used to it by now. He watched the passing couples and families with little envy. He drew his tattered cloak around himself and tried to keep his gaze on the road before him. For most of his life he had been just as alone as this. He had spent his childhood curled up in his bedroom, fearing for his life. His school years had been spent dodging taunts from every side, and avoiding people like the plague.

He was used to being alone. He had even grown to cherish it. Severus Snape was a very private person.

So why then was he feeling the loneliness so acutely? Why now –as he watched people hurry past, all with destinations- did the sheer weight of his isolation decide to crush him as it did? He could feel it, almost like the physical weight of the shackles that used to bind his feet. It made his steps drag, his head hang.

And why, oh why could he not get the image of that girl out of his head? Her hazel eyes shining at him with the light of pure childhood innocence. They seemed to penetrate the darkness that surrounded him like a fog.

Surely there hadn't been a time when he had been that innocent, that naïve, that unassuming. He had been spoilt at an early age. Severus could not remember a time when he was not jaded. It had been a long time, of that he was sure.

But that little girl. She seemed so sure of his goodness. Severus himself had never been that sure of that fact. In fact, at this moment, walking alone on the streets, he was sure of the opposite. There was no ounce of goodness left in him. Life and experience had sucked all that out of him. Killing the one man who ever meant anything to him ensured the total damnation of his soul, if it had not been damned already when he caused Lily Evans' death.

He shuddered at the thought, and shook his head to clear the thoughts. No, Severus Snape was not a good man. He never had been, and never would be.

He felt the weight of the few silver coins in his pocket, and contemplated buying himself something to eat. There was a possibility he could afford a loaf of bread with the money, or something of the like. But the possibility of spending it all this night and having nothing for the next day… no. It would have to last him for when he truly needed it. It would have to wait. He told that to his aching head, and his grumbling stomach.

He walked because he had nowhere to go.

Funny, that. Most people walked when they had a destination in mind, and stayed put when they got there, and had nowhere else to go.

But if Severus didn't keep moving, he was sure he would stop moving altogether. Forever.

He was quickly leaving the downtown district of London. The houses and buildings were growing fewer and more far between. The road beneath his feet grew from brick to dirt, and still he walked. He walked until the mists of twilight were almost gone, and the darkness of night was almost complete.

He walked until he was sure that his feet could carry him no further. Walked until his legs screamed in protest and his head throbbed. He was no longer the fit, young man of so many years ago. His lungs cried out in agony.

"Sir?" A voice reached to him out of the darkness. He knew that voice. If it had been possible, he would have kept walking. But he was frozen. "Sir, are you alright?" He could see her a few feet in front of him, standing with her mail in hand and looking at him with concern that he did not deserve.

Foolishly she approached him when he did not answer. His eyes were fixed on her small form as she took tentative steps towards him, peering curiously at his face. By now Severus was too tired from the day's travels, and from the mental strain seeing her twice in one day was giving him. He was ready to just fall over and be done with it.

"Hello… are you alright?" She was very close now. If he had wanted to he could have reached out touched her. But he didn't. For a girl who had survived a war with people constantly trying to attack her, she was strangely trusting. Approaching a strange man in the dark without her wand? Stupid. He would have to scold her…

Another step towards him, and one of her small hands reached out to shake his shoulder gently. This was all it took for Severus to come stumbling forward into her. He hadn't meant to do it, and he cursed the fates for making his legs fail him at that exact moment. How convenient.

With surprising strength for a woman of her size, she supported him. "Alright then, let's get you inside." Inside? "I knew you couldn't turn down my offer." She had recognized him?

She threw one of his arms around her shoulders and they made their slow, tedious trip up her small pathway and into her house.

If you had told Severus Snape five years ago that he would be essentially dragged off of the streets into Hermione Granger's home… chances are high that he would have hexed you in the face.

He felt like a foolish invalid as she helped him up the two steps to her door, and then as he had to lean against the side of the house as she opened the door for him. The lights inside the small house were dim and warm. It smelled good and clean and so like home that Severus wanted to weep. If he had the strength, he would have turned on the spot and refused her point blank. He would have run down the street and as far away from this little woman as possible. He would have…

But, as she helped him over the threshold and into the house itself, he knew that was all wishful thinking. A day full of all work and no food had incapacitated him the way the Unforgivables never had. Yet another sign of his new weakness.

"If I had known when I saw you… do you have anywhere to go? Oh, that is no matter. Here, sit." Before he knew what was happening she had sat him at what looked to be a kitchen table. She chattered on and on, and Severus only caught a few words here and there. The house was small, but tidy. Charming. The kitchen was bright and colorful as only hers could be. Magnets, photos, and what looked to be Charlotte's artwork littered her refrigerator. "Of course, I didn't know you would come looking for us… but I'm glad you did. You look half way out Death's door." At this he had to speak. He couldn't have her thinking that he had sought her out. That simply would not do.

"I did not… I would never _come looking for you._" She did not allow him to finish.

"Yes, yes, of course not. It's doesn't matter, anyway. Here, you must be hungry. Eat your fill and I will fix you a place to sleep." She had been bustling around the kitchen while she spoke to him, placing something in a small microwave above the sink, and then placing what seemed to be some sort of pasta dish in front of him. "And there's always more if you need it. Don't be afraid to ask." The small woman gave him a smile and then exited the room.

Severus was baffled. She did not know him. How could she trust him so easily, so wholly? He could not bring himself to trust anyone that completely, even after he had known them for years. Such blind faith was foolish. Dangerous, even. What did she think she was playing at? He was a murderer, wasn't he? For all she knew he could sneak into her and her daughters rooms in the middle of the night and kill them both.

At that moment, his stomach gave a pang that nearly doubled him over, and the aroma of the food in front of him became a sweet melody, beckoning him towards it. In spite of large amounts of self control, Severus could not deny himself when the ticket to his satisfaction lay right in front of him. He would contemplate the Granger girl later.

Even as his fork raised to his lips he had to stop it. Was she the Granger girl anymore? She had a child, a home. Where was her husband? And the child, approximately three years old, must have been born not a year after the war had ended. Surely she had not married Weasley. As much as he disliked the girl, seeing her waste her brilliant mind with someone like Ronald Weasley was enough to make him sick. And besides, the child did not have the trademark red Weasley hair. It was blonde as corn silk. Who then…

He put the fork in his mouth and tried to push those thoughts out of his head. From the very moment he felt the spaghetti and sauce slide down his throat, Severus was lost. He ate ravenously. He ate like a man who had never seen food before in his life. And, in fact, it felt as if he hadn't seen food in his life. Two days is a long time when you're hungry.

He was nearly finished with his plate when Hermione entered the room again. "I've fixed up the guest room for you. You're welcome to sleep as long as you need. Do you have any family, sir? Anyone that I can call for you… do I know you?" She had been looking at him in the face for the entirety of her little speech, and her question caught her entirely off guard. She was looking at his eyes with the most curious expression on her face. He could practically see the cogs working in her head. She had the same look that she used to get all those years ago when he asked her a difficult question in class. The Hermione Granger look. He knew it well.

Suddenly afraid, Severus downcast his eyes and stared at the empty plate. He was quite full, but felt the urge to eat more. The starving man's curse, he supposed. "No… I've never…" The moment he spoke, he knew he was damned. Now that she was suspicious, his voice did nothing for him but give her the answers she had been searching for.

"Professor."

"No."

"What has happened to you?"

"No."

"Where have you been?"

"No!"

He pushed himself away from the table and tried to rise. He had to get away. He didn't know why he was so afraid of this woman –this _child_- but the fear within him was deep. This girl knew him. She knew his sins more than most. He wasn't sure if he could stand the hate reflected in her eyes. Those eyes that were so similar to her daughters, those eyes that contained so much unconditional love and trust. He couldn't stand it.

His legs wobbled as he rose, and he only managed a step and a half before he collapsed to the ground. She was at him in a second, helping him back to his feet and walking with him to the living room. The Granger girl laid him on one of her overstuffed couches and sat on the floor, staring at him with a new strange expression on her face. He had never seen this look before. Dead Merlin, he hoped it wasn't pity. He would have to kill her if that was the case. He couldn't stomach pity, no matter how bad his situation was.

"Mama!" Granger had looked about to speak when a small voice came from the entrance to what looked to be a staircase. Severus could just see it from his place on the couch.

"Charlotte, dear. You're supposed to be in bed." The little girl came into view. Her blonde hair was wild with sleep, the long shirt that served as her bedclothes said 'sugar, spice, and everything nice'. Her mouth fell open when she saw him. He almost groaned.

"Hello, Mister. Why you here?"

"This is Mister Snape, Charlotte. He's going to be staying with us for a while." The little girl looked at him for only a moment before replying.

"Otay, Mama. Does he want to read me a story?" He almost laughed at that. Almost. The look on her face was so sincere it was absurd. She honestly could not think of a reason that he would be there other than that he wanted to read her a story.

"No, darling. Is that why you're still awake. Do you need another story?" The little girl put her fist to her mouth and nodded. Hermione gave a little laugh and rose. "Come along then. And this time you have to promise mommy that you won't get out of your bed. You need your rest. Excuse me for a moment, Professor." She gathered her daughter up deftly and carried her back up the stairs.

It was strange to see little Hermione Granger as a mother. He could still see her in his mind's eye as she was when he first saw her. Her hair shoulder length and uncontrollably frizzy. Her teeth bucked, her limbs gawky and awkward. Her voice back then was high and irritating. A know-it-all's voice.

But motherhood seemed to suit her. Her hair was much longer now, nearly to her waist and not even a fraction as wild as it used to be. She was quite pretty in a plain way, and she had softened significantly. Her voice was soft and soothing –the voice of a mother. He had never known that kind of tone from his own mother, but he could recognize it in a moment. Yes, motherhood suited her.

The little girl was interesting as well. She could not be very old at all. A little pixie of a girl, she was. She seemed rather advanced for her age, but who could expect any less from the daughter of Hermione Granger. Irritating know-it-all or not, she was the brightest girl of her age. Of course her daughter would follow in her footsteps.

Severus' mind froze when he heard her descending the stairs again. Her feet made little noise on the steps but they squeaked all the same. She crossed the room quietly and resumed her position on the floor by his head. "I'm sorry, Professor. She sometimes doesn't understand that the world does not revolve around her."

"Sounds like someone else I know." The reply was automatic, and Severus felt a bit of his old self coming back at the look in her eyes. He tried to push himself to a sitting position, but she raised a hand and pressed him back down.

"No. Please stay here tonight, Professor. I know you don't want to accept my help, but please. I couldn't live with myself if I let you walk out of here in the condition you're in." Severus sneered at her. Stupid self-serving Gryffindor, using him to stop her guilt. He did not like being a charity case.

"Save your nobility for someone who cares, Miss. Granger. Or are you a Missus, now?" A flush came to the tops of her cheeks, making her look a bit like a beet.

"Still as pleasant as ever, I see." She flashed him a small smile before answering his question, "No. I'm still… I've not married." The confession seemed to take a lot out of her, and she averted her eyes. Though he was laying on her couch, nearly incapacitated with fatigue, it was easy to fall back into his old roll. He was the professor and she was the ignorant little pupil. The feeling was exhilarating.

"I see." Was all he said. It was all he needed to say. The blush on her face deepened a fraction. They sat in silence for a moment. Then she spoke again.

"I didn't know they had released you. I would have… I've been telling them for years that you didn't deserve being locked up in that place. I guess they finally listened." Severus' mind stopped. She had been… but that meant… the benefactor was…

Oh, Merlin.

"Miss. Granger, why would you do such a thing? I am a murderer, Miss. Granger. A criminal. I, more than most, deserved to be in Azkaban prison. Do not tell me that…"

"You never deserved that, professor. Harry told us everything you did… everything you went through. You should have been hailed as a hero, not locked away. I've been appealing to the Ministry for years. I suppose I must be glad that they finally listened. But, Professor, how are you in such a state? I would have thought…"

"No one wants to hire a murderer, Miss. Granger. Surely you are not as thick as all that. I killed one of the most beloved men in the Wizarding world. You may be willing to forgive and forget, but there are very few people in the world as magnanimous as you."

"Everyone deserves a second chance, Professor." Severus snorted and gave no reply. Her noble responses and level head were annoying him to no end. Who the hell did she think she was, presuming things like that? He was Severus fucking Snape. He was not one to be pitied, he was not one of her charity cases. No doubt she felt right good about herself, doing her little bit of good. Satisfied and feeling quite the saint. It was almost enough to make him sick.

"Do you think you are feeling well enough to get to the guest room? You're welcome to stay as long as you like. There's a bathroom attached, so you can shower if you'd like, and feel free to anything in the kitchen." He didn't answer again, so she slipped a hand under his shoulders and practically hoisted him from his position on the couch. He walked a little steadier than before, only resting part of his weight on the girl. It was a short walk to the room she had given him.

It was a small, cozy room. The covers on the bed had been turned down, and a small lamp on the bedside table provided all the lighting in the room. A dresser stood on the right side, a door stood open on the left. He could only assume that it lead to the bathroom she had spoken of.

"I'll leave you to it, Professor. If you need anything, don't hesitate to call for me." She turned to leave, but he stopped her.

"What happened to Charlotte's father, Miss. Granger?" His curiosity had been piqued the moment she said that she wasn't married. He simply had to know.

"Let's just say having a child wasn't high on his list of things to do before he was twenty. I haven't seen him in years." The sad look on her face told him all he needed to know. The boy had left her, whoever he was. Had she really been alone all these years? The idea was almost sad. Well, it would be, if Severus was capable of sympathy. But he wasn't. "Goodnight, Professor." She said softly, and closed the door behind her.

He sneered after her and then simply stood in the place where she had left him. What was he to do? The bed and shower were calling to him as if they had actual voices with which to beckon. He hadn't had a decent wash or sleep in months. With a twinge of –was it embarrassment, he didn't know- he realized that he must smell.

It took only moments for him to be in the bathroom with the door shut and the water in the shower running. He let out a long sigh of relief the moment the water hit his skin. It felt very human to be clean again, more human than he had felt in years. The girl had left generic soap and shampoo in the shower for him, and he was glad for it. It had very little scent, but smelling of soap would be better than smelling of grime. That was for damn sure.

He finished his wash more quickly than he would have liked, but he did not like the idea of being venerable in a stranger's shower for longer than necessary. He exited the shower quickly, wrapping a towel around his waist, and exited the bathroom. He avoided looking at himself in the mirror as he passed it. He didn't like looking in the mirror at the best of times, when his hair had been black, his face clean shaven, and his physique toned. He was an old man after his years in prison, and much about him had changed. He hated to see that change in himself.

He picked up his tattered robes on the way out, and threw them onto the bed once he was back in the bedroom. He felt fresh and clean like he hadn't felt in years. It was a wonderful, invigorating feeling. In spite of his exhaustion, he felt refreshed beyond words. His robes, laying on the bed, seemed to taunt him. They were filthy and old. He had not had a new set of robes since he left Azkaban.

His gaze lifted a fraction and he caught sight of the chest of drawers across the room. Chances were it was empty, waiting for someone -who was a true guest- to fill it with their clothing. But it wouldn't hurt to check. He crossed the room, holding the towel at his waist, and used his other hand to open the top drawer. He could not help but let out a small grunt of surprise to find garments there. The top item, once he lifted it out, appeared to be a long, soft pair of sleeping pants. They seemed to be softer than anything he had ever felt, though he knew they were no different from ordinary sleeping pants. They were black, as well, which made him think that Granger had transfigured them specifically for him. When had she done this? His scowl deepened.

Nevertheless, he stepped into the pants and gave a sigh at the sensation of soft, clean cloth on his skin. The next garment was a similarly soft and black short sleeved shirt. While he had never worn such a casual garment, it was better than his robes. So he donned it.

It took no time at all for Severus to find himself in the bed. It was more comfortable than anything he had ever felt, or so it seemed. His body ached and his limbs sunk into the bed like lead weights. Surely it wouldn't hurt if he closed his eyes. Only for a moment. His eyes closed after half a moment, and he found himself drifting off into blissful darkness.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Severus woke –it couldn't have been more than a few hours later- and was immediately furious with himself. He threw the covers away from his body and rose. How could he have allowed his guard to drop like that? All manner of things could have happened while he slept like a baby in this woman's home. How did he know that she was not in her room calling the aurors, or plotting a way to kill him in his sleep?

_Because you know she's not like that, you old fool. Quit projecting onto her._

He shook away the voice in his head and crossed the room, flinging the door open. The house was silent. It was still very late, perhaps in the wee hours of the morning. The little family would not rise for quite a while.

For some reason, the idea of Hermione Granger sleeping peacefully above enraged him. What right did she have to trust him so? So readily, so unconditionally. It was foolish, to say the least. The stupid little girl trusted him. He would have to show her just how stupid she really was.

His chest burning, he stumbled through the house. He searched –in a small handbag he saw on the living room table, in the drawers in the kitchen- and finally he found what he was looking for. In the pockets of a small, light autumn jacket –a coin purse. He weighed it in his hands. It felt as if it contained more money than he had made in his entire six months of freedom. Enough to sustain him for a long time, the way he lived. For a moment, he thought. He thought about Granger. About those honest, whiskey colored eyes that she had given to her daughter. Her mass of hair and her pretty face. She was so fortunate, so loved, so.. everything he was not. A streak of _something_ ripped through his chest and he clenched his fist around the money.

She really was a stupid girl. Stupid to trust a man she had always hated. Stupid to trust a murderer. Stupid to trust someone like him –someone who had nothing to lose. Stupid, stupid, stupid girl. He stood for a moment, thinking, and then he made up his mind.

He ran.

He made his way out the door and shut it behind him quickly. He took off down the steps, down the path, and onto the road. He ran like a man with the hellhounds at his heels. And, in fact, he nearly did. He must have ran for only moments before a sense of foreboding fell over him.

And then, suddenly, he heard a crack. And then another half a moment after that. He hardly had time to register this fact when his arms were seized and his run was brought, abruptly, to a halt.

"Reduced to thievery now, are we Snape?" A strange man came from the left of him, grabbing the coin purse from his hand that was loosened with shock. "You forget that the conditions of your parole inform us whenever you break the law." His heart was pounding in his throat. He had done it. They were finally going to bring him back to Azkaban. Took them long enough.

"The money was given to me." He blurted. He did not know what made him say it, but for some reason he felt the need to defend himself. "She knew I needed money. This was a gift." Both men holding his arms simply laughed, and began to walk.

"We'll see about that. Come on. Before we take you to the ministry you're going to take this money back to where it belongs." Granger. Damn.

They approached the small cottage house and the bigger of the two men -the one with his left arm and the coin purse in his hand- rapped loudly on the door. He had to knock twice more, and ring the doorbell thrice before the door finally opened. There stood Granger, in all her glory, her hair messy –like her daughters had been, Severus mused- and her eyes bleary. They widened when she saw who was at her door.

"Professor, what-"

"Ma'am, we caught this criminal running from your home. He had this." The big man –Severus had begun to call him Hulk in his mind- dangled the coin purse in front of her face. Her eyes widened a fraction, and she stared at Severus in disbelief. He couldn't look her in the face.

"The best part of it, Ma'am," the other began, "he says you gave it to him. Says you felt sorry for his plight and gave him your money out of the goodness of your-"

"That's right." All three men's heads snapped to look at her, now. She had a hard, determined look in her eyes. He had seen that look before, too. He couldn't believe that she was doing this.

"Ma'am, this man is a criminal. The charms would not have been set off if-"

"There must be something wrong with your charms, then. This man was a guest in my home, and I told him he was welcome to anything I owned." She did not quaver as she said this, and looked none the worse for the lie. She always had been a cheeky little brat. "So you see, sirs. You have made a grave mistake. I am quite glad for the job you have done, but you should probably let him go. I am sure he does not appreciate being held for a crime he did not commit." The two aurors, had Severus been able to see their faces, were probably looking at her with twin looks of dumb confusion.

"Ma'am, this man-"

"I understand perfectly what he has done in the past. But he has one thing now. If you do not let him go, I shall have to file a report." The flaming look in her eyes would make the best of men crumble. Severus felt the grip on his arms slacken, and then disappear. The Hulk pressed the money back into Hermione's grip, but then hesitated as he made to leave.

"Call us, will ya? If he tries anything." He leaned in close for this part, as if trying to make it so that Severus couldn't hear. Severus scowled.

"I will. Thank you very much, sir." And then the damnable little chit rose onto her toes and gave Hulk a kiss on the cheek. The man looked very pleased with himself as he and his partner pushed passed Snape and, with a crack, disappeared when they reached the bottom step. Severus stood on the top step, deliberately looking anywhere but at Granger. He could feel her eyes burning holes in his face. But he would not look at her. He could not. Lightly, he felt her push something into his hand.

Looking down, he saw the coin purse.

_But remember this, my brother; see in this some higher plan._

He had to look at her now. He was vexed to see that her eyes were full of tears. "Take it. Take it and do not argue. I don't know what you could have experienced that would push you to this but… take it." She used both of her hands to push his hand closed around the money. For a fraction of a second, Severus fought the urge to throw it back in her face. But he resisted. She had just saved him from Azkaban for the second time. That fact, and that fact alone stayed his hands.

They stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Neither seemed to know what to do with the other. Severus wanted desperately to leave, but her eyes kept him paralyzed. Her tears had not spilled, and for that he was grateful. He could not abide her tears –he never could. But she was stronger than that. She would not cry in front of him. Of that he was sure. In one swift motion, he wrenched his hand from her grip and turned on the spot.

He made it to the second step on her porch before he heard her voice again.

"But you must promise me, Severus." He halted as she used his first name for the first time in her life, "you will use that money to do some good for yourself. The next time I see you… try to take better care of yourself. The world is not as hopeless as you think it is, and people are not as cruel. Open your heart a little, and you will be surprised at what you can do." Severus snarled, but did not reply.

_You must use this precious silver to become an honest man._

He walked away, down the rest of the steps and back down the path. His heart was heavy with her words. Who was she to pretend that she knew what his motives were, or what went on in his head? She knew nothing, noting of his life. Who did she think she was, telling him to open up his heart? He knew what came of an open heart, and none of it was good.

With a scowl on his face, but more money in his hands than he had in a long while, Severus Snape disappeared in the night. He didn't know how different things would be when he next crossed paths with Hermione Granger.

_I have bought your soul for God._

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

_Well, that's it for the second chapter. Thank you, once again, to the people who reviewed for the last one. Reviews make my day. _

_If there are any questions, about this story or anything else, feel free to ask in a review, or to just message me. I promise I'll answer as best as I possibly can. I can't promise to answer questions about plot, though. I'd like for that to be a surprise. _

_Thank you all again, and I hope you have a wonderful day._

_Xoxo, Woodwinked_


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